Wade’s heart was beating fast in his chest, and he gripped the bat tighter in his hands and peered around the corner. There really was someone in his house! Probably someone trying to rob him–well, he’d show them that they’d picked the wrong place to invade. He snuck around the corner, hefting the bat up, ran at the stranger, and swung the bat at the back of his head, connecting with a solid sound, and sending the man to his knees.
“You think you can just come in my fucking house and steal my fucking shit?” Wade said, “You picked the wrong fucking house, you fucking…” He stopped talking and looked down at the person he’d just hit with his bat, the white beard, the big hairy belly, the leather harness? “S–Santa Claus?” he said, stepping back and dropping the bat to the ground.
“What the fuck is wrong with you people!” Santa said, rubbing the back of his head, “Good thing I’m fucking immortal, but that still fucking hurts. Every fucking year, someone hits fucking Santa with a bat, or tries to shoot him, or whatever. Well you know what? I’m fucking sick of it. I was going to leave you something nice, but I think you might make a nice present instead!”
Before Wade could even react, Santa had hurled something at him, what looked like a solid black ball, but when it hit his chest it splattered and stuck to him, and when he felt it, he realized it was some kind of liquid latex–and that it was really, really sticky. In fact, he couldn’t pull his hand away, and the rubber was starting to spread across his chest and up his hand onto his arm. He tried to shout for help, but it was moments before both of his arms were pinned to his chest, and he watched as they actually merged with his body, disappearing entirely. The rubber spread down his legs, and suddenly he couldn’t stand up, and he fell forward onto his knees, the rubber sealing his legs together with his ass. The only place the rubber hadn’t spread was onto his face, and by now he was screaming in terror, trying to move his arms, but his body was now just a hunk of solid rubber. “What is this shit! What the fuck did you do to me!”
“Heh, I’m just making sure that you aren’t going to a danger to anyone else ever again is all. After all, what could a cumdump urinal like you ever do to hurt someone?”
“Wh–What?”
Santa pulled out his cock, and waved it in Wade’s face, “Come on little urinal, open up for Santa–I’ve had to piss for fucking hours now.”
Wade shut his mouth tight–for a moment–but then the rubber crawled up past his jaw and forced his mouth open, freezing it wide open, and Santa slid in his cock, and Wade shivered with pleasure. He could hear…something. No, it was more like a feeling, coming from the rubber. This sensation of…service? What he was…made for?
Santa started pissing, and he could feel the piss flowing down into him, could taste it inside of him, and it gave him such pleasure he would have orgasmed if he’d still had a cock, and when Santa finished with his load of piss he started fucking Wade’s hole roughly, but that felt good too. It felt good to be used–to be abused–it’s what he was made for. The rubber rose higher, absorbing his ears and eyes, but he didn’t need to hear or see–only taste, and feel the pat on his head from Santa after he’d shot his load, telling him he’d done a good job, and then Santa picked him up and shoved the new Wade into his bag. Now he just had to decide where to put him. He could always give him to a private owner, but it would be a shame to see him used rarely. In the end, Santa left him in the seediest bathhouse he could find, where he was fed many times a day, the happiest rubber cumdump urinal in the whole wide world.
Bracken's Corner 